Reason in Madness
by labellamafia
Summary: ONE SHOT. Tattward and Inkella contest entry. ExB. It's best to never judge a book by its' cover...


**Tattward & Inkella One-Shot Contest**

**Title: Reason in Madness**

**Your pen name: labellamafia**

**Characters: Edward & Bella**

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its' characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. Reason in Madness is all my own.**

**To see other entries in the Tattward & Inkella Contest, please visit the C2 page:  
**www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Tattward_and_Inkella_Contest/71624/  


**EPOV**

I listened as the open sign buzzed to life, coffee in hand.

Same old shit, different day.

"Yo, Edward. You know they have that metallic blue ink on back-order for like, two fuckin' months? Rose is supposed to come in today for a touch-up, she's gonna go ape shit."

"Use the cerulean, she won't even notice. Trust me." Emmett just gaped at me as I passed him in the hallway, headed for the supply room.

We had one _hell_ of a fucking day ahead of us.

Carlisle and I had gone over the books last night after closing. From 10-3 we'd booked a wedding party. Something about matching heiroglyphics? Who the fuck knows.

I've marked so many people that I just don't even bother asking anymore.

It's a moot point.

I was cutting it close, but at 3:30 I had a carving. The guy was a retired marine and I had the honor of marking his last open bit of skin. He had a mural on his back that stretched the entire spans, paying tribute to his time served. A viper wrapped around his torso, coming up along the side of his neck to rest just under his ear. Full sleeves on each arm, each with their own story to tell.

I was pretty fucking impressed. Not because of the detail, but because he hadn't made the decision to remove any of it.

Kind of reminded me of Carlisle.

The shop was his and he ran the motherfucker like Castro. I couldn't tell you his age, but with his looks he could pass for early to mid-thirties. Ink consumed him, both in a physical and professional sense. Carlisle's sleeves were of the most immaculate work I had ever seen, word on the street is that he'd done them himself.

He will neither confirm nor deny.

I'll never forget the day he found Emmett and I roaming the streets. We were, oh, eighteen and nineteen back then? The fucker approached us and we were waiting for him to swipe the swingblade from his pocket and go all Rambo on us.

He had that kind of effect on people.

But Carlisle turned out to be one of the most gracious and respectable men I'd ever met, which is pretty fucking amazing considering the fact that Emmett and I never had anyone willing to leave that kind of impression on us.

All we'd ever known were shelters.

At eighteen our asses got tossed out on the streets.

So there we were, wandering aimlessly as we had for months when he crossed us. He told us we stuck out like sore thumbs having no tattoos, but didn't ask much. Little did we know that on this side of town, tattoos weren't for statement but for attire. Emmett and I didn't have to say much for him to figure out we were homeless. Carlisle made mention of the tattoo shop, told us the upstairs housed a couple bedrooms and a bathroom with running water, and we were sold.

We weren't exactly in the bargaining position anyway.

Now I'm twenty-four and on my own two feet. The apartment, the car, I owe it all to Carlisle. He taught us the ups and downs of the inking world, gave us guns and trained us from scratch.

Hell, we could give those L.A. Ink fuckers a run for their money now.

Didn't change the fact that there were things about him that still remained a mystery, things he didn't divulge to either one of us. Emmett and I both knew he'd graduated from Columbia with an M.D.

Why the hell he ended up with his own tattoo parlor is lost on us entirely.

As far as we know there's no wife, no girlfriend, no squeeze, _nothing_.

Kind of rules out his ability to have reproduced, too.

The only other thing we _did _know was that the fucker was ripped. He had that Marky Mark shit goin' on, sans the Calvin Klein stint. But with the shop hours, we had no idea how he managed the up-keep.

My reverie is interrupted as the bridal party starts pouring in. There's a total of seven and, as promised, they're all on their way out the door at three on the dot. My carving appointment came and went as well, leaving me open for the rest of the day.

I balanced the books a bit while Emmett dealt with Rose and Carlisle took over two consecutive touch-ups. I'd lost track of time when Emmett came out and grabbed a take-out menu off the counter.

"Lucky Wok. Carlisle and I need some pork lo mein. Get whatever you want, on me."

_Fuck_, it was already going on eight. I nodded and grabbed the phone off the wall, with my back turned to the front door I placed the order. Somewhere in between hot and sour soup and crab rangoon I heard the door chime. After snagging the total, I hung up and turned to face the walk-in.

"Hi, how can I..." her back was to me, looking through a few of the collages on the wall. A mass of dark curls trailed down her back, resting at the dip her luscious waist created. I wanted to run my fucking fingers through them. She had the most pert ass I had ever seen, and I wanted to grab a handful. Her left arm rested at her side, and I could see the beginning of a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. She turned to face me then, and I braced myself against the counter.

Her face lit up in a half-smile, her eyes ghosting over the sleeve on my right arm. The tiniest of black t-shirts enveloped her, as tight as though it would swallow her whole. Every curve of hers begged to be touched, tasted, _claimed_.

It never dawned on me how difficult the whole self control thing actually was. I felt my palms digging deeper into the edge of the countertop. It was taking everything I had not to launch myself at her and take her right there on the fucking welcome mat.

"I'm looking to get another tattoo." Her _voice_. So fucking innocent. So fucking virginal.

Such fucking _bullshit_.

She smirked then, knowing I could see through her little facade. Exercising what little self control I had, my gaze met hers.

"Know what you want?"

"Text. It's a quote actually. I'm looking for Roman Script." _Damn_. This chick gets right to the point.

Shit was making me _hard_.

"Well I can take you now if you want." I winced, hoping she didn't notice the double entendre.

"Okay, where do you want me?"

Fuck. Like anything ever worked out the way I needed it to. I took her ID and made a copy while she signed a release form. I was sure to catch her name before handing the ID back to her.

Bella.

_Bella_.

"Bella, right this way." The way her name rolled off my tongue set shit in motion below the waist of my jeans. I gave Bella the lead, making sure she didn't see anything that would give me away. My jaw about hit the floor as she took the chair, her jeans slung low enough to reveal red lace.

Who the fuck _was_ this woman?

"Black ink's fine, by the way. Not a fan of much color." I rushed down the hallway, grabbing the ink and a new needle from the supply room. Was it just me or did she not seem all that interested?

Fuck. I think I was feeling enough for the both of us.

I walked back into the room to find Bella in the chair, her head tilted back far enough so that her hair fell away from her face. Through the top of her right ear was an industrial, a simple steel barbell.

On her, it was anything but simple.

I wanted to reach out and touch it, flick the cool steel with my tongue as I drove into her wrecklessly.

Instead I took my stool, starting my prep and turning to catch her open her eyes.

"What were you thinking as far as placement?" From the beginning it had been three, four, five-word answers.

I was about to plead insanity. Never before had a girl had _this_ kind of effect over me. This kind of draw.

"Right here."

Another two-word answer. My breath caught in my throat as she slipped a hand under the hem of her shirt, slowly gathering it just underneath her perfect pair of tits. Her index finger ghosted along the length of her torso, indicating where she wanted the script. I stifled a groan.

"And the quote?"

"But there is also always some reason in madness."

Indeed there was. I went and prepared a stencil without another exchange between the two of us. Once I had the script right, I carried it back in the hopes of her approval. My heart raced as she took in the stencil.

"Perfect." She purred. Like a fucking kitten.

I had to get my hands on her.

I prepped the area, applying a little antiseptic before compressing the pedal a few times. After diligently placing the stencil, she caught my gaze with her own.

It was her way of telling me she was more than ready.

I just fucking wished it hadn't been in regards to the damn tattoo.

The stencil took a total of ten minutes. I watched as Bella closed her eyes, studying every movement, every expression.

Her face twisted up in the most erotic way, I never thought it possible.

When I finished with the stencil she opened her eyes, their brown pools calling out to me in ways I couldn't decipher. I wiped away the excess ink, my fingers coming in brief contact with the exposed skin.

Flawless. Smooth. Like goddamn _glass_.

The erection I had been straining to hide became that much more prominent.

The silence was broken by a stifled giggle, a chorus of bells no less. I looked at Bella in question.

"Life isn't easy when you take everything so seriously, you know." I laughed.

"I guess not."

"Seriously, you look like one of the royals at a goddamn Wimbledon game. Smile." What she did next scared the ever-loving shit out of me. Bella sat forward in the chair, raising a single hand to my face before gliding it over the spans of my jaw. "It's just a tattoo, sailor."

Sailor? _Sailor?_ Never in my life did I ever think I'd get a rise out of something like that.

But when those words left her lips, I grew harder. That shit was sexy as _all_ hell. She sat back in the chair, steadying herself as I prepared to fill in the script.

"If for any reason you need me to stop, let me know." Bella smiled.

"You have to take the pleasure with the pain."

Oh, I'm good for both sugartits.

The needle glided over her skin in such a way that it became erotic. Her muscles danced in tune with the hum of the needle and I suddenly found myself in desperate need of a distraction.

"What made you choose this quote?"

"It's actually only part of a quote. One by Friedrich Nietzsche. 'There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness'." I'd known that all along.

I just needed to hear her say it.

Bella was easily becoming more of a dream than a reality. Beauty and brains did not make good company these days, especially with the broads _I_ was used to.

It took everything in me not to jump her in that fucking chair, make her writhe underneath me and scream my name. What I wouldn't give for _that_ fucking friction.

Call me delusional, but I was guessing it would be enough to have me swear off sex for the rest of my days.

Just so long as I had that one opportunity.

By the time I had finished the tattoo, I found myself sulking a little. Bella would walk out of the shop and my life, simultaneously taking the ground from underneath me as well. Her eyes never left me as I wiped the tattoo down and placed the gauze delicately over the irritated skin. I slid away on the stool, discarding the needle and containers of ink before handing her a mirror and standing to wait for her approval. Instead of taking the hand mirror, Bella rose from the chair and stood in front of the floor-length mirror hanging on the wall. She had the posture of a fucking goddess as she smiled, clearly satisfied with my work.

I don't think anything in my life trumped this moment. She turned back to face me and became instantly distracted by something on the wall.

"You have Van Morrison's 'Moondance' on vinyl?" She was incredulous. I grinned.

"The new 180 heavyweight. How did you know?"

"That's the album cover right there on the wall." I laughed.

"Van Morrison fan, huh? Don't have too many of those come through here."

"I was raised on it, thanks to my mother. The 180 heavyweight, though, really? Do you have it here with you? I still haven't been able to get my hands on it, I have to see it." I didn't mind showing it to her, the only problem was that it was upstairs in my old room.

I couldn't imagine that leading to anything _good_ as far as my self control was concerned.

But Bella's juicy little lips soured into a pout and my resolve crumbled.

"Yeah, it's up here. Follow me." I peered down the hallway, Emmett and Carlisle were still bogged down with appointments so I felt a little more at ease. With Bella in tow, I climbed the narrow staircase to the second story of the shop. The room was barren, sans an old metal work desk collecting dust in the far corner. In the middle of the floor sat an old milk crate, all my old vinyls still in tact. Bella wasted no time in heading over to the crate. On the very top sat what she had been looking for.

"Edward, where did you find this?"

"Music festival in Seattle a few weeks ago. Wait, how do you know my name?" It hadn't dawned on me until now that I hadn't even told her that much. She smirked.

"It's plastered all over the walls in your office."

I'm a fucking idiot.

She looked back down to admire the record, running her fingers over the gloss of the cover. Without warning, her eyes shifted to the sleeve on my right arm.

"What's the story behind those?"

I froze.

I never shared that with anyone. That sleeve was the one thing in this world I could keep to myself. Her eyes pleaded with mine, detecting my desperate hesitation.

"There's a story behind very tattoo, you know. Take this one for example," she took my hand in hers and the movement sent a jolt of electricity through me, from my head right down to my toes. She gasped, but continued her ministrations as a way to shake it off. My hand came to rest in between her shoulder blades.

More smooth, flawless skin. I fought like hell to keep my eyes from rolling into the back of my head. Her eyes met mine, holding my gaze captive.

"Eye of Horus. There are six parts to the eye, representing the six senses. Touch, taste, hearing, thought, sight, and smell. The senses are in order according to their importance, touch being the first."

This girl was a fucking _vixen_.

"Need another example?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I think so." I felt a familiar pang of tension in my throat as I spoke, a signal that the attempt to keep my self control in check had faltered.

I was a lost cause.

Bella took my hand in hers again, sending another jolt of electricity through me. This time it went straight to my dick. I hadn't realized how close Bella and I were standing, and when she smiled I knew it was because she could feel my need for her. My hand came to rest on the inside of her thigh, my gaze still held captive by her own.

"Japanese symbol for the word taste." Bella cut herself short, but she didn't need to say anything more. My lips met hers with such force that I was surprised I didn't send her reeling backwards. The force of the impact shot a small jolt of pain through me, but you had to take the pleasure with the pain.

She'd said it herself.

Bella moaned into my mouth as my hands ghosted over her smooth shoulders, down her sides and tracing the luscious curves the sides of her breasts created. I could feel her nails through the material of my shirt as she raked them down my back. I hissed and cupped her ass with my hands, lifting her up and carrying her over to the desk in the corner of the room. Placing her down gently, I hovered over her, nipping a trail up her neck. She moved to take my bottom lip between her teeth, sending a single spasm down my spine. My tongue delved into her mouth, fighting for dominance with her own. Her hands trailed over my arms and under my shirt, sliding it up until I could pull it over my head with ease. Hers followed, and what waited for me underneath was more than I could have hoped for.

A white, mesh bra.

Bella's pert nipples practically screamed my name. I removed the seemingly offensive fabric, sucking one into my mouth while I teased the other between my fingers. She elicited a moan, fisting her hands into my hair. I felt her hand moving to unbutton the fly on my jeans, and I moved to release hers simultaneously. In one swift movement, my jeans were on the floor. I climbed off of her to remove her shorts, groaning instantly at the loss of contact. Bella wrapped her hands around my elbows, pulling me to her with such force that I collapsed back on top of her. She giggled as she left a trail of hot kisses down the side of my neck. My hand met her sex and she bucked her hips into my hand.

She was fucking _dripping_.

"My god Bella, you're so fucking wet." She looked at me and smiled, bucking her hips into my hand a second time. I groaned, driving two fingers into her before I even realized it. I pumped her, my thumb finding her clit instantly. I teased her, growing harder by the second as she writhed from my touch.

"Ungh, Edward. Faster, _please_."

She was even fucking hotter when she begged.

As my pace increased, she slipped a hand down and released my straining cock, pumping me with such fervor that I thought I was going to come in her fucking hand. She circled the head, teasing the slit with her thumb causing me to see fucking _stars_.

"Bella, I..."

"Edward, I need you inside me. Now." In one swift movement I drove into her, causing her to thrash her head back and moan. I ducked down to take that hot little industrial in between my teeth, pulling gently before flicking my tongue out against the cool steel. Bella found my nipple ring, suckling it before doing the same. My thrusts grew more erratic, desperate in my attempt to claim her.

To make her mine.

I could feel her walls beginning to clench around me, swallowing me fucking whole. The tension began to build in my stomach as she wrapped her legs around my waist, digging her heels into my lower back.

"Faster, Edward. Oh, _fuck_. Harder, yes." Bella's warmth enveloped me, her heels adding delicious fucking pressure as I continued to drive into her with wreckless abandon. Bella took my earlobe between her teeth and I spilled inside her, collapsing on top of her as we both fought to control our breathing. After spending a few minutes in comfortable silence, her eyes fluttered open and bore into mine with just as much intensity as they had before.

"You know, I still don't know what your tattoo means." I smirked, kissing her forehead reverently before returning her gaze.

"It symbolizes a new beginning, _my_ new beginning. Everything in the sleeve resembles what ultimately led me...to you." I was in awe of the truth in my own words. It turns out I had been wrong about my tattoo.

Bella, too, I could keep for myself.

**A/N:** **Eh, what the hell. Just an idea I had. :)**


End file.
